


Entanglement

by stella_bella



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)
Genre: F/M, PWP without Porn, Post Film, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stella_bella/pseuds/stella_bella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately after Adam and Eve feed on the poor doomed lovers at the end of the film, they have to get back to their flat before the sun rises, all the while reeling from the effects of fresh blood when they are used to a sterile, refrigerated supply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entanglement

They nearly don’t make it back to the room.

Adam runs into a narrow archway, catches the carved crumbling edge with his shoulder, and sways sideways. Eve goes with him, pulled and pulling, and they fall together, crash, entwine.

He staggers backwards, meeting the rough stucco with his back, his jacket catching, snagging, as Eve pins him, one leg on either side of his thigh, hands feather-light on his face and throat.

Her lips are warm, the fading echoes of a life, and she presses urgent damp kisses into the thin skin of his neck and collarbone. Adam tips his head back, rolls it against the wall, closing his eyes. He grips his fingers in her hair, tugs lightly, unsticks her lips from his jaw line so he can cover them with his own. She tastes of iron and copper and sin, and his fingers cradle her jaw, her throat, the back of her neck, as they slide together and apart, lips wet and warm, still alluringly, breathtakingly, warm.

She sighs into his mouth, and he drags his lips down to the fragile hollow of her collarbones. A pulse beats there and he laps at it, nips a little, keeps moving and buries his face in the soft silk of her shirt. He closes his eyes; there is a warmth there, cradled in her chest. He has forgotten what it feels like.

She wraps her arms around his back, fingers stroking the edges of his shoulder blades, and tips her head down to his ear.

After a minute, they stand as one, slowly, leaning on each other, and must stop twice more on the maze of alleyways and stairs, tugging each other into tiled archways, closed doorways, shadowy nooks where even the watchful eyes of the ever-wakeful city will not follow.

The room is closed and still, trapped heat still lingering in the heavy carved furniture and dusty tapestries pulled tight over the unscreened windows. There is only an hour or two until dawn.

He pauses to close the door, and Eve twirls away from his outstretched hand, spins in the center of the room, head thrown back and eyes alight, and Adam sees her in another lifetime, another century, when she was young and vibrant and the roses of mortality were not quite faded from her alabaster cheeks. He was young then, too.

He’s smiling when she dances closer, grabs the edges of his jacket and pulls him to the bed.

They shed clothes with the easy, neglectful air borne from centuries, millennia, of practice. There is no rush, because there is time, always time, the one thing they have in abundance, in excess.

She slides her legs over his, her hips on his, and he runs his palms up the sides of her waist, keeping his eyes on hers. She smiles, slowly, full of promise, and places her hands over his, guiding them over the bones of her sternum, cupping them around her breasts.

They kiss, and she pulls back a bit farther each time, drawing him up, sliding down his hips to settle across his thighs.

When she tips her head back, mouth open and gasping, Adam rises to meet her, arms around her back as he lifts her slight weight and rubs his cheek against her stomach. She shudders, fingers in his hair, white against the inky strands.

He lays her down and follows, covering her skin and bones and distant heartbeat with his own. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, spreads his long fingers over her ribs, her sharp hipbones, the still-soft swell of her breast.

She sighs, arches beneath him, and slides one leg up to hook behind his knee. They move as one, and she lets her eyes fall shut, lets her body open, one hand grasping the wooden bedpost. He grabs the other before she can find purchase in the sheets, and interlaces their fingers and raises them to his lips, sucks kisses into her knuckles.

It’s been so long since they fed on the living, so long since the blood in their veins swirled warm instead of chilled and sterile.

The heat is intoxication, wild abandonment; their stolen gasping breathes and rapid pulse the very rhythm of the city. They are alive, as they have not been in a hundred, two hundred, five hundred years. Pulling and pulled, they writhe and seek, desperate for more contact, more warmth, for each other. Eve cries out, nails splintering the wood, knuckles white, and Adam shudders, tendons straining as he throws his head back, gasping in ecstatic release, taking her with him, pulling and pulled.

The comedown is slow, languid. Dawn stirs outside the windows, the soft sounds of life beyond their dim escape.

Adam rolls them onto their sides, slides his thigh over hers and pulls, gently. Eve smiles without opening her eyes.

She wraps his hands in hers, presses a soft, cool kiss to their joined fingers. He studies her as she dozes, lashes fluttering, floating in the half-world of dreams and shadows.

The sun rises, its light reaching the far windows, and filtered through the old tapestries, it turns the air a rich red-gold. The call for prayer echoes from a nearby minaret, calling the faithful to worship. Skin on skin, they are whiter than ivory, than bone, and the warmth is fading.

Below, the streets sing with the clamour of voices and carts, footsteps and music and laughter.

Inside, he frees one hand, softly, gently, and strokes it down her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the ridge of her cheekbone, the hollow of her throat. She turns toward his touch, sinking deeper into sleep, and he trails the hand down her neck, over her shoulder and down her back, spreading his long fingers over the landscape of her ribs and spine.

He pulls her closer, closing his eyes against the distant, invasive warmth and light, seeking sanctuary in the returning, familiar coolness of her skin. He tilts his head against hers and listens for her heartbeat, distant and faint under the ice; lets it pull him under. They breathe together, a still pale cocoon wrapped in semi-darkness, waiting out another day.

**Author's Note:**

> Quantum entanglement is a phenomenon whereby groups or pairs of particles interact in such a way that their quantum states cannot be described independently; any act performed on one particle will in effect be performed on both, regardless of physical distance.
> 
> \- Heavily paraphrased from Erwin Schrödinger's _Discussion of Probability Relations between Separated Systems,_ published in 1935.


End file.
